


Uprising

by Latras



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Politics, T.A.M.E. Shock Collars (Zootopia), War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latras/pseuds/Latras
Summary: The year is 1988, and Zootopia stands on the brink of a devastating war.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Backstory

Chapter I, The Brewing Conflict

The year is nineteen eighty-eight, and war was on Zootopia’s horizon. The oppressive rule of the Bellwether dynasty had only worsened with the ascension of Queen Dawn IV, and dissent was growing. To see why, one must look back at the city’s tumultuous history.

September 20th, 1925- The pro-collar movement starts under Mayor Aster Bellwether. They push for the mandatory collaring of all predators in the city, and the eternal reign of the Bellwether family. After years of campaigning, they win the mayoral election in nineteen twenty seven.

June, 1930- Anti-collar groups begin to organize into a cohesive movement, spearheaded by Leon Growlane. They begin to organize a revolution.

October 2nd, 1931- Growlane’s revolution begins with a march on the city hall. Dozens of protestors are killed, and the revolution is crushed by overwhelming military responses. Growlane and surviving revolutionaries escape to the north.

November 30th, 1931- Leon Growlane, with the support of the anti-collar governor of the northern district, declares independence from Zootopia and proclaims the Free Mammal’s Union. Zootopian government is silent.

January 5th, 1932- Zootopian soldiers, after months of preparation, cross the border into the Union, intending to retake control. They expect little resistance from what they see as a peasant army of untrained sub-mammals.

January 7th, 1932- Reports trickle back from the front of heavy Zootopian casualties. Guerrilla warfare in the northern mountains claims thousands of lives, and resistance from the Union does not waver.

February 17th, 1932- Zootopian forces exit the mountain range, and the Union celebrates. Zootopia still refuses to acknowledge their independence.

November 30th, 1941- In celebration of the ten year anniversary of the founding of the Union, construction is started on the new capital city, Sawtooth, where Growlane’s family home was located. The small town grows into a bustling city within months as mammals flock to the region.

April 12th, 1948- Outraged by the success of the union, and by the growth of its population from escapees from the city, Zootopia tries for the second time to invade. This time, there were planned and in-depth defenses in the mountains, and Zootopian casualties more than doubled over the first war.

March to August 1949- Zootopian bombers hit the new cities of the north hard. Thousands of kilograms of high-explosive ordinance rain down on the Union per day, prompting the construction of an air force. They are eventually driven from Union skies by new interceptor aircraft.

May 19th, 1950- After two years of brutal mountain warfare, Zootopian forces pull out yet again, leaving the Union to rebuild its bombed-out cities and its depleted armies.

1960 to 1988- The Union’s population swells to over three million as predators escape from Zootopia and start families in the north. With the new population comes more resources, more mammalpower, more scientists, and more workers. By nineteen eighty-eight, the Union’s economy is thriving, while Zootopia is slowly decaying into civil conflict and oppression.


	2. The Governor

Chapter II, The Governor

Phineas walked down the wide hallway to his office. The building, the seat of power in Sawtooth, was far too large for a mammal of his size. He passed a portrait of Leon Growlane, the first governor of the Union. The panther had ruled from the founding day until nineteen forty-one, when he ended his term. Such had been the tradition for decades, each governor serving for ten years before relinquishing power to the next. Governors were elected by a civilian council, made up of the various officials of the Union’s regions. Phineas had been running mate to the last governor, Mikhael Sokolov, but the old polar bear had died during his second year in office. As vice-governor, Phineas had inherited his position for the remaining eight years of his term. He was never supposed to be governor, but he did his best, and the council had seen no reason to elect a new leader yet.

Phineas stopped when he reached a polished oak door. The brass knob had been recently shined, and he felt guilty about touching it and smudging his pawprints over the old metal. He twisted the knob and pulled, revealing his office. It was built for large-sized mammals, but had been adapted for his use after the event of his predecessor’s death. The huge mahogany desk had been converted into a podium for Phineas to sit at, and a much smaller desk and chair had been set atop it. Climbing the steps to his position, he contemplated what the day would bring. 

A defector to Zootopia had been discovered amongst the limited number of prey citizens, and his trial was scheduled for that day. The case was open and shut, multiple unsent letters had been discovered, along with forged Union army papers, in the offending gnu’s apartment in the northern port city of Bougainevielle. The evidence was clear, and it was all but guaranteed that the mammal would spend at least a decade in a hard labor camp. Phineas wasn’t completely onboard with the idea of penal labor, but he had to admit that is was an effective way of utilizing traitors and captured spies instead of letting them rot in prison.

He had reached his desk, an exact smaller replica of the larger one he was standing on. The desk itself was sparse, only having a notepad, pen, and a nameplate with his title resting on its surface.

“Governor Martesa.” Phineas said to himself, reflecting on his position. He didn’t think that he deserved the position, but the people liked him well enough, and he listened to them. He sat down in his chair. He tried to keep his furniture simple and neat, but it was hard to appeal to the council to get his desk changed. He had to keep up the appearance of an immovable illustrious rock, after all. He looked up as his intercom buzzed.

“Governor, the Chief Marshal is here to see you.” His secretary said.

“Send him in.”

A highly decorated wolf walked in. Sabiere Duret was at least twice as old as Phineas, and he had even served as a Captain under Growlane’s original government. He had a dozen medals on his crisp blue uniform, and he stood as straight as a ruler. He was a military mammal, through and through, and Phineas couldn’t help but feel intimidated, even though he was the Marshal’s superior.

“Governor.”

“Ah, Marshal Duret. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Marshal produced a small folder and placed it on his desk. The wolf leaned back after he did, waiting for him to read through it. He opened the folder.

SPECIAL REPORT  
DECEMBER 8th, 1988  
ARMY OF THE FREE MAMMAL’S UNION  
AFTER-ACTION REPORT

-FOR THE EYES OF UPPER COMMAND STAFF ONLY-

Deployed Area:  
15 klicks due south of the town of Sablin, South-Eastern Border District

Deployed COs:  
Lieutenant C. Carvalho  
Captain D. Andreyovich

Action Report:  
Forces under Lt. Carvalho encountered a Zootopian light armored brigade. Carvalho was unable to engage without anti-armor capabilities, so Captain Andreyovich’s tank battalion was called forward. The Zootopians had no heavy anti-tank defenses, and they were driven back with the loss of three armored personnel carriers and two dozen soldiers, with no losses sustained from our forces.

REPORT FILED DECEMBER 6th 1988 BY MAJOR H. ARMSTRONG

-REPORT END-

Phineas looked up at the Marshal, who was waiting expectantly.

“Another skirmish?”

“Yes sir. This was the third force driven back this week, and the twenty-first this year. Bellwether is attempting to escalate things.”

“It would seem so. There may be a conflict brewing, make sure that our border guard is at full strength, and deploy reserves as you see fit. We cannot back down.”

“Yes sir. It will be done.” The wolf said, about-facing and walking out of the door.

“Marshal, one more thing.”

The old wolf stopped and turned.

“Yes, governor?”

“Please, make sure that if more fighting breaks out, Zootopian and Union citizens should not be harmed. We are supposed to liberate them, not to be just another tyrannical government.”

“Of course, sir. My utmost concern is with the civilians of all nations. You have my word that non-military deaths will be kept the lightest they can be, even at the cost of our own capabilities.”

“Thank you, Marshal. You are dismissed.”

The wolf strode out of the door, and Phineas put the new report in his ever-growing file drawer of skirmish reports. The Zootopians were getting braver, and he wasn’t sure if the Union could stem the coming tide.

With a sigh, Phineas braced himself for the day. There was still the trial to get done, after all. It was set for eleven o’clock, so he had about two hours to get ready. That was, if his intercom didn’t stop buzzing.

“Yes, Katusha?” He addressed his secretary.

“Sorry to bother you again, governor, but there’s an issue in the lobby downstairs. A group of mammals have intruded and are demanding to see you.”

“Interesting. What do they want with me?”

“They said that you were never elected properly, and that you stole power away from the people when you succeeded Sokolov.”

“Damn it, not more of them.” Phineas said to himself. Ever since he had risen to power, there was staunch opposition to his ascent from various small groups in the government. They had never proven strong enough to be problematic, however, and Phineas could pretty safely ignore them.

“Well, we’d better see what they want this time. Let one of them up here, with a guard of course.”

“Yes sir.”

The protestor had been escorted to his office by one of the soldiers guarding the capital building, and he was let in by Phineas. The otter took a seat at one of the multiple-sized chairs in front of his desk, while the guard took station at the back of the room.

“Good morning, citizen. I believe you have concerns you wish to address?”

The otter shifted nervously. 

“I, uh, have something I wish to discuss in private, governor.”

Phineas considered the pros and cons of speaking with this mammal one-on-one. It would certainly raise his approval amongst the population, showing that he had faith in them enough to be left alone in a room with a stranger, but it would also mean that he would be open to any attempts on his life that the otter could make.

“Very well. Corporal, please stand outside of the door.”

The guard nodded and walked out, shutting the door with a soft clunk behind him.

“Now, what did you wish to discuss?”

The otter seemed to relax. That was a good sign. Nevertheless, Phineas still clutched his pistol under his desk.

“I’m not actually here to protest your leadership. In fact, I and my associates think you’re doing a fine job, but that’s beyond the point. I am here to inform you of a plot amongst your citizens.”

“A plot? What sort of plot, and how did you come to know of it?”

The otter took out a sheet of paper and held it out. Reaching over his desk, Phineas grabbed it from his paw. It was folded and a bit ragged at the edges, but he read it anyways.

As he skimmed through it, he muttered its contents to himself, the otter watching expectantly.

“Multiple contacts, spy arrested, network still operational, distractions on border successful, assassination planned?”

He read further, and to his alarm, the name of the spy they had arrested, Raul Gaduna, was listed as a contact, along with several dozen others. He put the paper down, and looked squarely at the otter sitting before him.

“Are you meaning to suggest that all of these mammals are currently plotting to kill me and destabilize the Union?”

“Yes. My group has recently discovered this information, as well as a small amount of evidence that we thought we would share with you.”

“And what exactly is your group, and who are you?”

The otter sighed.

“I suppose I’d better tell you. I am part of a partisan group known as the free corps. We have been working in secret to keep the Union alive ever since we were founded by Kurt Seidel, you may remember him as head of security under Growlane. He created us to act without the restraint of law, and we have uncovered and executed dozens of Zootopian spies. This, however, is much beyond us.”

Phineas was stupefied. A secret and highly illegal police organization had been operating under the nose of all of the governors for decades? And they were finding and executing spies?

“And this, organization of yours. How did it come to know of this ring of spies?”

“After you arrested Gaduna, we conducted our own investigation after your state police did. We found hidden documents at a hideaway deep in the woods, documentation that you are looking at now.”

Phineas glanced down at the paper, and back up at the otter.

“You did not answer the second part of my question. Who are you?”

“I am Enrique Canaden. I have been director of the Free Corps for six years.”

“Six years, that’s as long as I’ve been in office.”

“Yes. We have discovered that serving under a governor instills a sense of duty to said governor, so everytime power changes hands, we choose a new director.”

Phineas nodded. He was starting to come to terms with this new information, and surprise gave way to suspicion.

“So, your organization is an illegal operation that murders citizens that have not been tried and sentenced by the government, but claims to be acting on the behalf of said government. Is this correct?”

“Governor, we can assure you that we do not take the execution of a spy lightly. We make absolutely sure-”

“How? How can you be absolutely sure?”

“Test that document for hoofprints. You will find that Mr. Gaduna had handled that document many times prior to our obtaining it. If the results come back negative, you may terminate our group and try all of us as murderers. Here is a ledger of all our top members and their places of residence.”

The otter handed him another sheet of paper.

“Very well. You may go, for now, and I will contact you in one way or another after the testing is complete.”

“I will see you then.” 

The otter rose, and walked out of the door. Leaving the governor to his thoughts.


	3. A Day in the Life of Nicholas Wilde

Chapter III, A Day in the Life of Nicholas Wilde

Pseudo-slavery wasn’t Nick’s first choice of employment. Not to say he had a choice, but it felt good to think that he did. Happytown was the worst district to live in all of Zootopia, but its ninety nine percent predator population were forced to live and work there. The factories had to keep pumping out goods for the rest of the city.

The line of dejected predators in grey coveralls shuffled past a guardhouse, the sheep inside lazily watching them as they passed, looking for any sort of punishable behavior, a black truncheon swinging to and fro in his hooves. Nick was fairly good at avoiding beatings, but even he couldn’t escape the guard’s gaze.

“Hey! Fox! Outta the line!”

The fox winced, anticipating the pain to come. He stepped out of the line and approached the booth. The ram stepped out, crumbs of his breakfast falling off his security uniform.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to work. Probably gonna be more productive today than you’ll ever be in your entire miserable life.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Nick knew it when he felt the ram’s nightstick impact the side of his head, sending him down to the floor. A sharp ring started in his ear, and he barely heard the sheep yell at him to get up. He tried to push himself up with an arm, but it was kicked out from under him, causing him to fall painfully on his muzzle.

“Fuckin chomper.”

The guard picked him up by his T.A.M.E. collar, and threw him back into the slowly moving line. Nick scrambled up and retook his place in the shuffling mass. The guard smirked and went back to his station.

Working at an iron foundry was quite literally hell on earth. The ever-present blazing heat made his head spin, the deafening noise of hoppers and conveyor belts made it impossible to communicate with his fellow ‘employees’, and the guards tolerated no slacking, for whatever reason. His only comfort was that he worked alongside a few of his closest friends.

“You’re late, Wilde.”

Nick had to stoop to see who was talking. A miniscule fennec fox, one that he had known for most of his agonizing existence.

“Hey Finnick.”

They took up their positions on either side of a conveyor belt, watching the raw iron that passed them for impurities or foreign objects. It wasn’t the worst job in the place, that honor would fall to the ladlers, the poor souls who manually moved and poured the molten iron into moulds. At least a dozen of them died a year, either from heat exhaustion or from liquid iron being splashed all over them. The foundry owners did nothing, as they could always get more pred workers.

Nick’s two other friends had the misfortune of being ladlers. A cheetah called Benjamin, and a Honey Badger everyone called ‘Honey’. Along with Finnick, they were his family.

Lunchbreak was the best part of Nick’s workday. The cafeteria was a good distance away from the factory floor, so it was cooler, and the noise was at least bearable.

The food, for lack of a better term, sucked. Some sort of protein paste, bread that tasted like chemicals, and soggy steamed vegetables for omnivores, which Nick thought was the best part of the meal.

"So, Benji, you got any news on your mom?"

The overweight cat sighed and slowly shook his head. His mother had been found guilty of anti-royalist activities months ago and had been shipped off to a prison labor camp. Benjamin hadn’t heard anything about her since.

"No, no mail, no news, no nothing." 

He sniffed, and his eyes glistened with moisture.

"F-for all I know, she's d-dea-"

Nick leaned across the table and attempted to hug Benjamin. He couldn't nearly wrap his arms around the large feline, but it was the thought that counted. The cheetah sobbed silently, and his other friends looked on in silent empathy. 

Benjamin’s collar blinked orange, a warning that it was about to activate. Nick quickly backed off, not wanting to overstimulate the cat.

“Th-thanks Nick.”

“Don’t mention it, buddy.”

Their conversation was cut off by a whistle, then a crackly voice over the intercom.

“BREAK’S OVER, BACK TO WORK!”

After five more hours of mind-numbing boredom, the whistle sounded again, letting them go home for the night. Nick lived on the other side of town from Benjamin, Honey, and Finnick, so he bid them farewell and strolled down the bleak streets to his building.

Nick’s flat was in the basement level of a massive block apartment a few miles south of the foundry. As it was in the basement, there were various pipes and ducts snaking their way through the walls and ceiling, as well as a water heater taking up half the space in his only closet. His ‘bed’, if you could call it that, was a mattress haphazardly placed on top of an old couch he had convinced a neighbor to give him. The only other furniture in the place was a lopsided desk held up by a few dozen books and an office chair that was missing half of its fabric covering. Despite its shabby appearance, it was home, and Nick could relax.

He turned on the radio on his desk, and immediately the small room filled with sound. He turned the dial to switch from station to station, until he found the one he was looking for.

“Hello listeners, and welcome to the North of the Border News. I am your host, Joe Kriel. In tonight’s edition: we take an in-depth look at how life in the Union stacks up next to Zootopia, for both predators and prey, with exclusive interviews with refugees from the city.”

Listening to an anti-monarchist station like this would probably be punishable by death, but that was only if anyone found out, and nobody ever came down to Nick’s place except him. Besides, the Zootopian government didn’t acknowledge that the Free Mammal’s Union existed. It was the only thing that gave him hope. Hope for the future, hope that one day he would be liberated, hope that the queen would get what was coming to her.

He listened to the articles for an hour or so before the presenter logged off for the night and the music started up. He got up out of his chair and switched the radio off, before turning off the single overhead lightbulb and falling into bed for a precious few hours of sleep before he would have to wake up and do it all again. He sighed, trying not to think about how sad he was.

"Maybe tomorrow will be different."

He knew it wouldn't be true.


	4. A Change in Pace

Chapter IV, A Change in Pace

The morning came too soon, as it always did. Nick was woken by the rays of light shining down on his face from the tiny slit of a window high up on the wall. He sluggishly rolled himself out of bed and shuffled to the shower. His shift started in an hour.

He stood under the unpressurized trickle of lukewarm water and rubbed shampoo into his fur as quickly as he could, not wanting to rack up his water bill that he could already barley afford. He stepped out of the shower and switched on his fur dryer, giving himself a full sweep with it and quickly brushing his teeth.

Breakfast was bland and depressing, like most days, his cabinets and fridge holding nothing except for some stale cereal and some protein supplements.

There were no clouds in the sky, and Nick would’ve been able to enjoy it if he didn’t have another day of work to look forward to.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Happytown, an out of place luxury car was speeding towards the industrial district Nick worked in. In it, there were two mammals. One, the driver, was a middle aged deer buck in a chauffeur’s uniform, and the other was a young grey rabbit doe, clutching a small briefcase. She was on an errand for her father, the esteemed Lord Hopps.

Recently, the family had expanded its manor, and with that expansion came the need for more servants. As such, Judy had been sent to Happytown to select a predator to be her personal butler.

The sleek black car pulled into a parking lot adjacent to the main administration building for the district, a tall glass and steel skyscraper with the royal seal emblazoned on its doors. Judy sighed, and pushed these doors open. She was greeted by a secretary, a sheep as all the government officials were.

“Ah! Miss Hopps, we’ve been expecting you. Please, accompany me.”

The ewe got out of her tall desk chair and led Judy to a hallway. There, they turned to a door marked with the words ‘Holding Pen’.

“Now, miss Hopps, please do not be intimidated when I open this door. Yes, there are several bloodthirsty preds in there, but they all have had their collar’s sensitivity turned up to maximum. They set one toe out of line, and they get a nasty shock.”

Judy nodded. In all honesty, she wasn’t scared of preds. Most of the servants on the Hopps Estate were predators, and they had never done anything to hurt her. Except when she was younger, and that fox had…

No. She would not think about that. The three scars on her cheek were reminders enough. Besides, the one who had done it was far away from her now.

The door swung open to reveal six predators, all looking either scared or angry, and all wearing muzzles and pawcuffs. There were several guards in the corners of the room, all carrying intimidating looking tranq rifles and tasers.

“Take your pick, Miss Hopps.”

Judy, doing her best to look confident, strode up to the pred nearest her. He was a weasel, about her size, and the smallest pred in the room.

“Good morning, mister?”

The nervous mustelid looked up at her, and she saw desperation in his eyes.

“Weaselton. Duke Weaselton.”

In a much quieter voice, he whispered “You gotta get me out of here, please, I know you rabbits are better than sheep at keeping slaves, I need to leave. It's endless suffering here, day after day..”

Judy was surprised at the panic and sadness the weasel exhibited. She had been told that preds in the district, while not able to leave, were quite well treated, considering. Despite his hushed tone, a guard apparently heard him, and strode over to the pair.

“Apologies, Miss Hopps. We will take this one away.”

Judy was about to protest when the secretary came up behind her.

“Not to worry, you wouldn’t want a weasel as a servant anyways. Too small to do anything useful, I’m afraid. Not to mention he’d probably steal something, you can’t trust them.”

Duke gave a quiet whimper as he was dragged away through a different door than the one she had entered through.

Judy was surprised at the panic and sadness the weasel exhibited. She had been told that preds in the district, while not able to leave, were quite well treated, considering.

She was disinterested in the rest of the candidates in the room, for a new thought had pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. The image of Duke’s scared and pleading eyes made her wonder what exactly was going on in the places no prey mammal ever went. When she was done looking, she addressed the secretary again.

“Ma’am, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Miss Hopps. Ask away!”

“May I see the rest of the district?”

The ewe looked taken aback.

“Er, why? An industrial zone like this is no place for a lady of noble birth.”

“I have my own reasons. Are you going to let me?”

She knew she would be allowed to. The Hopps family was old and respected, and while she wasn’t a sheep, she still outranked this government employee.

“Yes, of course. Let me call up a car for y-”

“I have a car. Just tell me where the preds work.”

Nick had barely started his shift when the foreman called him aside. He shot a grimace at Finnick, who shot one back, and he made his way to the office.

The foreman sat at his expensive wooden desk, a fan pointed at his face. The office was air conditioned, but the permeating heat of the smelters and ladles was still there. Nick, however, was not concerned with the heat, or the warden for that matter. He was concerned with the royal officers in the room. Four armed and armored policemammals, and an inquisitor, the feared officials appointed by Queen Dawn herself. 

Nobody knew what their job was, exactly, but everyone knew that if one took offense to you, you were as good as dead. They were known to hand out life sentences to preds that even looked at them wrong, and this one looked especially mean. He was sitting at the warden’s desk, but he stood and squared up to Nick when he entered, easily dwarfing the fox.

“You. Fox. You have been accused of stealing from a prey citizen of Zootopia, come with us and we won’t have to hurt you.”

“Stealing? What? From who? When?”

The inquisitor raised a hoof, and Nick flinched back.

“That is not for you to know, scum. Come with us. Now.”

Nick did not see a choice in the matter, it was either suffer a beating and be dragged to jail, or be dragged there willingly.

He felt himself being put in cuffs, and he was led out of the office, onto the foundry floor, where Finnick, Honey, and Benjamin looked distraught, and finally out of the building. A police van waited ominously in the parking lot, next to the foreman’s car, and a black car that he had never seen there before. As they got closer, a mammal stepped out of it. 

It was a rabbit. She had on an expensive looking pantsuit, looking nervous but also determined. As they passed, she walked quickly to the inquisitor.

“Excuse me.”

Judy wasn’t too sure what she was doing. She had only just got here, but the situation took her interest. A single fox being led away by five rams seemed out of place to her.

The lead officer stopped when she addressed him, surprised at seeing a rabbit in this part of the city.

“Ma’am, you are interfering with royal business. Please move along.”

Judy took a wallet out of her pants and pulled out an identity card.

“I am Stuart Hopps’ daughter, please tell me what you are doing here.”

Pulling rank on mammals was always a last option for her, but it had worked, as the ram recoiled in shock.

“Oh, yes Miss Hopps. This Fox was caught stealing from a prey citizen of the city. We are taking him to be held until his trial can be scheduled.”

Judy looked at the fox. He didn’t look like the shifty type, in fact he looked worried, and maybe even terrified. Remembering the weasel from earlier, she spoke again.

“Who did he steal from?”

The ram’s expression of smug superiority dropped instantly. She could see him tense up.

“Um, well, er, the victim of this horrible crime has chosen to remain anonymous. Now Miss Hopps, please move aside. I must see that this prisoner is transported to where he needs to be.”

Judy stepped up onto the sidewalk, blocking the Inquisitor’s path.

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to do that. I must request that you remain here while I conduct my business, and I shall speak with you again once I return. Now, what is your name and rank?”

The inquisitor’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked like he was about to tell her to leave, but she interrupted him again.

“Note that my father has considerable power in the royal court, and I WILL tell him that you refused to do something as simple as waiting and giving me your identification so that you cannot leave while I am here.”

The ram gritted his teeth.

“Douglas Ramses. Captain.”

“Thank you, Captain Ramses. Please remain here.”

With that, she strode inside the iron foundry.


End file.
